


baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

by JanetSnakehole



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, like a lot of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanetSnakehole/pseuds/JanetSnakehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's not around much anymore. Bucky is... well, he would hesitate to use the word lonely, but that's not far off. Darcy decides he could use some company. </p>
<p>And saying no to her is pretty much pointless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So I didn't mean to do this. But it happened, and here you go. I've spent the last ten days of a beach vacation writing this on my phone. Great use of vacation time? Maybe not. But it's my birthday today so Imma go ahead and post it. This was originally supposed to go: fluff smut ANGST (all caps necessary) but that, uh, didn't happen. Angst, it seems, is not in my repertoire. It's so much easier to just go fluff fluff SEXXXXXXXX.
> 
> Also, this contains some Buffy-based discussion between our intrepid heroes. For those who never watched the show, here's a rundown: Angel is a do-gooder vampire with a soul. Angelus is his evil alter ego who murders people when Angel's soul gets taken away. Buffy is a badass.
> 
> Title is from the song Electric Love by BORNS.

The  new scientist was going to be a problem, Bucky had decided. She had moved into the Avengers facility upstate, given carte blanche by Stark to do whatever she wanted in his labs. Her  new found notoriety in the scientific community made it hard for her to keep her work private, and Tony didn’t care what she was doing, unlike the companies who wanted to give her grants. She mostly stayed in the labs, working with a dedication and fervor that astonished even him, and he had spent a fair amount of time in the company of Stark and Banner. 

 

Dr. Foster was a quiet slip of a woman, who only really took notice of other human beings when they wanted to talk about her work, or distracted her from her work, or broke some of her homemade equipment (it was  _ one time _ , and a complete accident, but Bucky had been a little scared of her ever since). No, the problem wasn’t actually Dr. Foster, but rather, her assistant. Darcy Lewis, by contrast, hardly ever shut up, was always deeply involved in everyone’s business, and had been the primary person responsible for the loss of his only real friend.

 

Well, “loss” might not be quite the right word. “Absence,” or perhaps “distraction” might be more accurate. Thanks to Lewis’ constant meddling, Steve now spent a significant portion of his non-mission time holed up in his rooms with Natasha. Of course, Bucky (and everyone else with eyes) had noticed Steve was sprung on the Black Widow ages ago. But none of them (even Stark, whose primary hobby was interfering with their lives as much as possible) had bothered to do anything about it. Then Lewis rolled in, with her damn sunny disposition, her desire to see other people be happy, and her absolute inability to just let it go, and next thing he knew, Bucky’s best friend was gone. 

 

Bucky didn’t really have anyone else besides Steve. Sam would hang out with him occasionally, but mostly he had his hands full with Maria. Banner was polite, but he kept to himself when he wasn’t working on Avengers business. Stark’s inner engineer would only let him be around Bucky for about five minutes before he started poking and prodding at his arm. Wanda was nervous around him, and privately Bucky felt the same about her; he’d had enough people messing around in his head to last him several dozen lifetimes, and he didn’t want to risk any more. Besides, she had taken to spending most of her spare time with Vision. Barton was just kind of a dick. Pietro was even worse. Thor, when he was on Earth, was a good sparring partner and a fantastic drinking buddy, but preferred to spend his time with his Lady Jane, and by proxy, his fellow lightning-wielder, Darcy. 

 

Which is why Bucky was sitting by himself in the lounge at 9 pm on a Friday night, watching, of all things, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It had been recommended to him by Tony for whatever reason, and damned if he wasn't completely addicted. If only his younger self could see him now, all alone on a Friday night instead of out in some smoky club, a dame on each arm, having the time of his life. It felt like everyone was pairing up around him, and here he was, all by his lonesome, watching Buffy blow up a demon with a rocket launcher. He tilted his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was humiliating.

 

“Oooh, I love this episode!” 

 

Bucky’s eyes shot open and he whipped his head around, to see Darcy coming around the edge of the couch. If he had felt humiliated before, it was nothing compared to this. He couldn't remember if he had ever prayed for his own spontaneous death before, but he sure was now. 

 

“Mind if I watch with you?” she asked, eyes fixed on the tv as she plopped down at the end of the couch, clearly not waiting for an answer. He just gave a vague nod, trying to ignore her and focus on the show. The quiet didn’t last long.

 

“Who do you think would win in a fight, Buffy or Steve? Unarmed, obviously. No shields, no rocket launchers,” Darcy was looking at him, blue eyes wide. 

 

And here was his other problem with her. Yes, she essentially had been responsible for Steve’s current lack of availability. But, additionally, and probably more concerning, was the fact that she looked like a walking wet dream. Bright blue eyes, curves that would make Betty Grable green with envy, lush pillowy lips that he couldn't help but imagine wrapping around his--

 

“Hello?” A hand waved across his vision. “So what do you think?”

 

“Steve,” he grunted, not turning to look at her. 

 

She laughed, and shook her head, chocolate curls tumbling across her shoulders. “You're just saying that because he’s your best friend.”

 

_ Not lately _ , he bit back. 

 

“And I respect that, the dedication. But in an unarmed fight, Buffy totally has him. She literally has divine right on her side.”

 

Bucky just shrugged, hoping she would stop talking if he just didn't engage. 

 

“O-kay then. I'm not always the best at picking up signals, but I'm reading you loud and clear, Sarge. I'll be going, then.” She stood up to go, and looking at him with sad, sympathetic eyes, said softly, “You just looked… I just thought you might want some company, is all. I guess I was wrong.” She turned on her heel and began to walk away He found himself pushing aside the urge to reach out to her, to keep her there. It had been so long since he’d had someone to sit with. His fingers twitched with the desire to grab her hand. 

 

He settled for a sigh and a quiet, “You don't have to go.” 

 

She turned back to him, her bright smile briefly taking the air from his lungs. “You sure?” she asked, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. 

 

He just nodded and turned his attention back to the show. Because of this, he was slightly distracted when she decided to sit back on the couch directly next to him. The couch was huge, with ample space for at least five people, and now here she was, her own shoulder inches away from his flesh arm. No buffer seat. He could feel the heat from her body, the proximity raising goosebumps along his skin. What the actual fuck.

 

This was a bad idea, letting her stay.

 

Darcy fidgeted around, trying to get comfortable by tucking her feet up underneath her. The slight movement caused her arm to brush against his, which made Bucky suck in a quiet gasp. He hoped to God and Thor and anyone else who might have any input on the situation that she didn’t hear it. She didn’t move away, though, and now she was pressed against his side, the orange blossom scent of her hair intoxicating. Plus, their height difference gave him a pretty good view down the front of her shirt. 

 

_ Stop looking, stop looking, damn it Barnes, get it together _ , he berated himself, unwilling or unable to look away from the swell of her breasts. It took him a moment to realize that she was no longer watching the show, but staring up at him through long, dark lashes. 

 

She licked her full lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth. “So,” she murmured, his eyes meeting hers, “Are we doing this, or what?” She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, and he wanted nothing more than to pin her down and run his tongue across the soft pink marks where her teeth had just been.

 

Bucky couldn’t remember ever feeling his mind go completely blank like this before. He used to be good at this, for God’s sake. All he could do was nod once, and she leaned forward, reaching across him, her dark curls brushing across his chest. It took a second for him to register the movement, and by the time he did, she had pulled back, holding the remote control in her hand. 

 

“Alright, next episode,” Darcy declared. 

 

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Of course she wasn’t making a move on him, the broken assassin with the robot arm. And it would have been a terrible idea to go down that road anyway. She was so young and full of life, and he was just a bitter old man, with nothing more to offer than some PTSD and immeasurable amounts of blood on his hands. 

 

It was better this way. Maintain his distance. Don’t get close to anyone, that’s what his time as the Winter Soldier had taught him. Not everything HYDRA had drilled into him was wrong.

 

It was better this way.

 

****

  
Two days later, when she walked in on him watching tv, Bucky wasn’t caught off guard. He had a two-pronged plan. First, he would not, repeat,  _ not _ , stare down her shirt or at her lips or even look directly into her baby blues. She was to be treated like Medusa. The second prong of his plan involved having absolutely no physical contact with her whatsoever. Preferably he would be able to maintain enough distance that he couldn’t smell her hair.

 

The first prong of the plan deteriorated immediately upon her arrival. She was carrying a six pack of beer, a bottle opener and an enormous bucket of fried chicken. She bent over to put them down on the coffee table in front of the couch, giving him a direct view into the magnificent canyon of her cleavage. 

 

“I hope you’re a breast man, Sarge,” she said, pulling out a beer for herself and handing him one. He was so startled by her catching him that his eyes flicked up to meet hers ( _ Dammit, Barnes. Medusa, remember? _ ) and for some reason she didn’t look annoyed. Rather, she opened the bucket of chicken and grabbed a piece. “Because I call dibs on all the drumsticks.”

 

It took mere moments for the second prong of the plan to fall apart. She sat right. Fucking. Next to him. Again. Which made it completely impossible not to pay rapt attention to the positively sinful way her lips wrapped around the top of the beer bottle, or the way her tongue laved across her fingertips as she sucked them into her mouth to clean them. 

 

“Oh, is this the episode where Angelus kills Miss Calendar?” she asked idly between sips of beer. 

 

He wanted so badly to give her the cold shoulder and not say anything but he just couldn’t hold in a response. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen it before,” he said between gritted teeth. 

 

She winced. “Shit, sorry. It never occurred to me to censor my spoilers on something that’s been out for twenty years. Forget I said anything. Miss Calendar lives a long and fruitful life. She definitely does not get murdered.”

 

He just took a long pull from his beer, trying to go back to ignoring her.  _ Remember, Barnes, this'll never be a good idea. In fact, it would be an outright bad idea. You’re dangerous. You’re a killer. You don’t have anything good to offer her.  _ He caught another glimpse of her from the corner of his eye; her tongue swiped across her top lip, chasing a drop of beer.  _ Plus there’s the part where she is completely out of your league anymore. And how any sane woman should run screaming from just the idea of taking a formerly brainwashed assassin to bed. Though given her choice to come work in this loony bin, she may have a few screws loose herself.  _

 

“Are you gonna eat any of this or am I going to have to call Thor in for reinforcements?” she waved a drumstick at the bucket of chicken. “Don’t tell me you don’t like fried chicken.” She gasped dramatically, clutching at her heart. “You monster!”

 

Monster. A word he would absolutely use to describe himself. Or, at least, his past self. He had been making a little progress in distinguishing between the two. He knew Darcy didn’t mean anything by it, she was just joking around. But even just a little reminder of the nearly endless slaughter he had committed made him clench his jaw and tense up all over, eyes no longer able to focus on the tv. The Asset had a tendency to creep in on him when he was least expecting it. He closed his eyes, practicing the deep breathing technique that the Steve-mandated shrink had taught him to help calm down, to come back to himself. 

 

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and if she had put it there a second earlier, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop himself from grabbing her arm and snapping her wrist. As it was, it made him tense up more to feel her warmth there. She seemed to sense this and scooted away from him on the couch.

 

Even with his eyes closed, he knew she was staring at him. He could feel her trying to say something, and finally she got out a quiet, “I’m sorry.” A moment more of silence passed. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not, you know.” He opened his eyes, still not able to look at her. Instead he stared down at his clenched fists in his lap. She reached for him, hand hovering over his for a moment as if she was scared to touch him again. She probably was.  _ Good _ , he thought.  _ She should be. _

 

Next thing he knew, her palm covered the back of his hand, thumb softly stroking his knuckles until he relaxed. “Now, do you want some chicken or not?” she smiled up at him, and much to his surprise, he actually smiled back, the adrenaline quickly ebbing from his system. 

 

He grabbed a piece and took a bite. “Happy now?” he said, mouth full. 

 

“Ecstatic,” she said, moving back to her original seat, shoulder lightly touching his. 

 

Despite having claimed all the drumsticks, Darcy only managed to finish two (and three beers) before she was nodding off on the couch. Bucky didn’t realize she was falling asleep until her head lolled and nestled against his shoulder. He wasn’t quite sure what to do; should he wake her? Let her sleep until he had to get up? He debated the options for entirely too long; he knew what he should do, but the thought of moving away from her hurt more than he cared to admit. 

 

She made the decision for him by nuzzling her head down onto his chest and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, twining her fingers loosely into his. 

 

He jolted awake some time later, hearing footsteps. The tv had turned off (Friday, perhaps? He hoped it was the AI, and not any of the actual humans living there), and the only light was coming from over the sink in the communal kitchen behind the couch. Somehow he and Darcy had wound up lying on the couch together, with her half on top of him, head still pressed into his chest and his arm around her waist. Miraculously, she slept like the dead because his sudden movement didn’t wake her. He strained his ears, picking up two sets of footsteps walking into the kitchen. One definitely male, with a heavy, confident stride. One much lighter, barely audible. Steve and Natasha, then. 

 

It sounded like they were pulling leftovers out of the fridge and scavenging a late night snack. Cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of a plate being set on the counter, the beeping of pressing numbers on the microwave. He could make out Steve saying, “I thought I smelled fried chicken,” with clear disappointment in his voice. 

 

“It’s on the coffee table,” Natasha replied, the sound muffled by whatever she was eating. 

 

Steve’s footsteps. Getting closer. There’s no way he would miss Bucky, cuddled up with Foster’s assistant on the couch. Bucky held his breath, clinging to the insane hope that this would somehow make him disappear. 

 

The next thing he heard was a soft chuckle from Steve, and Bucky glared up at his best friend, floundering for something to say and settling for flipping him off with his metal hand. It turned out, however, he didn’t need to say anything.

 

“Steve, if you eat my chicken, I will personally destroy you. And could you and Tasha keep it down? People are trying to sleep here,” Darcy mumbled into Bucky’s chest, eyes still closed. 

 

Bucky heard more quick footsteps, followed by a rare Natasha Romanoff laugh. “We’ll just be going, then,” she said, grabbing Steve’s arm and pulling him away. Before they rounded the edge of the couch, Natasha gave him a thumbs up and Steve flashed him a wink. 

 

“Sorry about that,” she said, pushing herself up off his chest. The sudden loss of her soft weight pressed against him was shocking. However, the fact that she was now straddling his hips was definitely not the worst thing that could have happened. “I’m sure you’d prefer that Steve and Tasha didn’t see–” she waved her hands in between the two of them “–this.”

 

He eyed her suspiciously. “You call her Tasha? She  _ lets _ you call her Tasha?”

 

She beamed down at him with pride. “Yup. It was my reward for giving that patriotic hunk of man meat a push in the right direction.”

 

As much as he didn’t love hearing his childhood best friend referred to as “man meat,” Bucky laughed. 

 

“I mean, obviously she could’ve climbed him like a tree any time she wanted,” Darcy elaborated. “Look at her.  _ I’d _ have sex with her in a heartbeat.” Bucky tried his damndest to keep that image out of his head but that was a losing battle, not that he was upset about it. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and a slight flush appeared across her cheeks. “But that’s neither here nor there. Anyhow, she’d been trying unsuccessfully to set him up for a while, and she knew about Peggy and all…. she didn’t think he was ready for anything. She wanted him to have time to decide for himself that he was. Which I get.” She held his steely eyes with her blue ones as she said, “Waiting for someone to be ready.” His gaze searched her face and he felt like he should say something but had no idea what. He was keenly aware that she wasn’t just talking about Steve anymore. She swallowed thickly and looked away. “All I did was suggest that maybe he give it a chance. And now look at them. Happy as can be. Though a lot of that’s probably on account of all the sex.” 

 

She dismounted from her position on his lap and she grazed her fingertips across his chest as she walked past. “Night, Bucky.”

 

“Goodnight, Darcy,” he mumbled long after he had watched her walk away, the spots where she had touched him still tingling. It wasn't till he was back in his own room that he realized having her in his arms on the couch had been the most restful sleep he'd had since falling from the train. 

 

****

 

It was quickly becoming a routine, for him and Darcy to sit around and watch TV, talking. It had taken him a bit to come around to talking during his show, but when it came to Darcy,  _ not _ talking was not really an option. She'd talk to him about her work with Jane, and her family, and it always seemed like she got more out of him than he wanted to share. Something about her just made him want to tell her everything. Of course, not every discussion was about anything significant; she still tried to get him to change sides on the Buffy vs. Steve debate (which he was actually starting agree with her about, not that he'd ever tell her that) and wanted to know all about what it had been like growing up in Brooklyn. 

 

Sometimes he even found himself on the verge of talking about what had happened in the time after the train and before Steve had found him again. She never once pressed him, even though he knew she was curious. Everyone was. He didn't even talk about it with Steve. 

 

It was her honesty, he realized, that made her so easy to talk to. He could be open with her because he knew she wouldn't skirt around an answer just to make him feel better. Sometimes he wished she would actually keep things a little more to herself (like when she told him she could hear Sam and Maria having sex sometimes, and did highly enthusiastic impressions of the sounds they both made, one of which turned him on more than he cared to admit), but overall it was refreshing that she didn't walk on eggshells with him. 

 

It took him a few days of spending time with her to realize three things. The first was that she had somehow worked her way into his life in a position that would be best qualified by the word “friend.” This was strange in and of itself; Steve was his friend, obviously, but he'd known him for so long he couldn't even remember how they'd become friends in the first place. There were others around the facility that he supposed could be considered friends as well, but they were really more like colleagues or teammates with whom he was friendly. He hadn't made an actual friend outside of a work or combat environment since around the time Germany invaded Poland. 

 

The second thing he realized was that while she was interested in him as a friend, she was definitely also interested in him on another level. The first couple times she casually touched him were chalked up to coincidence or something like it. After that, though, the touches became more frequent, the flirting a little more obvious. It was hard, too, not to flirt back. It was something he loved, once, and he was certainly interested in her, too. She was beautiful, and thoughtful and compassionate. But he refused to give in to temptation.

 

Because the third thing he realized, with a heavy heart, was that the more time he spent with her, the more likely it was he would kill her.

  
  


****

“I just don't get it, Jane. Or, okay, yeah, I  _ get _ it, but I don't want what I'm getting to be the case. Ya know?” Darcy sat down in the lab chair in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. Jane didn't look up from her work, not that that was a surprise or anything, but she did shrug a little to acknowledge she was listening. 

 

“I mean, I know he's been through a lot, but the old Bucky Barnes is still in there. I see it when he's with Steve and Sam. With them, he’s all sarcasm and charming smiles…” She trailed off for a second, picturing one of his rare smiles, and her stomach did a little flip. “Even with me sometimes, he’ll say something really nice, or funny, but then it’s like he wants to take it back as soon as he says it. And every time I try to flirt, or even just sit next to him, he gets all–” she went completely rigid and silent to illustrate “–weird. Once he went slightly Winter Soldier-y. Not a great sign.” She sighed heavily. “I guess he’s just not into me.”

 

“I feel like you're selling yourself short, Darce,” Jane said, actually looking up at her. “You don't really know him that well, and maybe he just needs some time to feel comfortable. You've only hung out, what? Five, six times? Or maybe he doesn't realize you're interested.”

 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I did the whole ‘fall asleep on his chest’ maneuver. I even made sure to put his arm around me. If he doesn't pick up on the flashing neon signals there, he's the worst spy ever.”

 

“Well, he wasn't really a spy–” 

 

“That is  _ so not the point _ , Janey. The point is, where is the legendary ladykiller?” She paused. “Okay, possibly not the best choice of words for a former assassin.” She sighed dramatically. “I just wanna grab him by that offensively sexy man bun and do things to his body that’d make even Tony Stark blush.”

 

“I'd love to know what you're planning that could do that. In fact, I demand to see diagrams,” Tony said, striding into the lab completely unannounced. “And who exactly are you going to be ravishing so thoroughly?”

 

Darcy stuck out her tongue and threw a pen at him, which he caught and began twirling in his fingers. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Warsaw for the clean energy convention?”

 

“I came to bring this to Foster,” he held up a flash drive, “I was in Warsaw, the conference is done now, and don't dodge the question. Whose world are you going to be rocking when you unleash those sweater puppies?” 

 

“No one, because apparently he has no interest in doing the sex with me,” Darcy said, pouting at him. “So now I'm sad.”

 

Tony looked at her sympathetically, and patted her shoulder. “You know full well that were I not happily committed to the most beautiful and terrifying woman in the world, I would be more than happy to do the sex with you, Lewis. I meant what I said about your sweater puppies.” 

 

“Thank you for that generous hypothetical offer, Tony. But that doesn't help my current situation.” She folded her arms on the desk and rested her forehead on top of them. “I just want to put my mouth on his mouth, is that too much to ask?”

 

“Is it too much to ask that you two finish this conversation somewhere that I'm not working?” Jane interrupted. 

 

“Yes,” came their simultaneous replies. 

 

“I really think your best course of action here is to hide in his bed, naked, and wait for him. Even if he's not  _ that _ interested, it's unlikely he’ll say no to a naked woman with a rack like that.”

 

A brief image of herself naked in Bucky's bed flashed through her mind, but she decided a sneak attack on a former assassin might not be the smartest course of action. She shook her head. “I'm trying to get him to come around on his own, not throw myself at him quite so desperately. I have  _ some _ dignity, thank you.”

 

Jane snorted. “You told him you hoped he was a breast man, while leaning over in front of him, wearing a V-neck!”

 

Darcy shrugged. “ _ Some _ dignity, I said. Not, you know, a  _ lot.” _

 

“For the record, that absolutely would have worked on me.”

 

“That was never in question, Tony. Almost anything would work on you.” She sighed again. “Maybe if I can get him to watch something a little sexier… I mean, Buffy has its moments, but something with a little more nudity... ” She trailed off because Tony’s face had lit up and he was cackling gleefully. 

 

“It's Barnes, isn't it? You want to take the Tin Man down your Yellow Brick Road, don't you?” He continued laughing even after Darcy punched him in the arm.

 

“What is so funny about that, Tony? He’s actually really sweet, and funny sometimes, and there's no part of his body I don't want to put my mouth on. The problem is, there are apparently a lot of parts of my body he doesn't want to put his mouth on.”

 

“I simply don’t accept that. There are at least six, seven parts of you I’d put my mouth on right now and you’re fully clothed.” 

 

“It’s just…. for a guy who allegedly got a lot of action back in the day, he seems awfully scared of any physical contact. Like he’s afraid he’ll break me or something. I hugged him once and he literally did not move a muscle. Didn’t even do the bro pat on the back. Just stood there. It was super awkward.”

 

“Lewis, you’re a peach. And if he’s not interested, let’s chalk it up to his Soviet brainwashing. Maybe they fried something with all the electroshock. If he is into you, and he’s not doing anything, let’s still chalk it up to the brainwashing, and you’ll just have to be patient.” He gave her a one-armed side hug. “Or wait in his bed naked.”

 

****

Bucky was trying not to think about Darcy. Of course, trying not to think about her made the stupid, asshole subconscious part of his brain just focus on her even more. And, as his feet pounded the trail circling the Avengers facility for the eighth time that morning, there wasn’t a whole lot else to distract him at the moment. That is, until Steve caught up to him on his left side, running for a minute in amiable silence. Bucky was hoping he might be able to just have a nice, mindless conversation with his friend, something to take his mind off Darcy.

 

“What’s going on with you and Darcy, Buck?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky groaned and sped up. Steve caught up with him effortlessly (of course), and repeated the question. Bucky knew he couldn’t outrun Steve, but it was tempting to try. The punk’s stubborn nature wouldn’t let him drop the subject, though, even if Bucky ran all the way to Timbuktu.

 

“Nothing whatsoever,” he huffed out finally. 

 

“Didn't look like nothing when you two were on the couch the other night,” Steve prodded. Bucky at least appreciated that he hadn't explicitly mentioned that he had fallen asleep with her in his arms. 

 

“We watch tv together sometimes, there's nothing else to it,” Bucky told him, rounding the bend that brought him back to the front entrance to the complex. 

 

“You’re friends, though. But you like her, don't you?”

 

Bucky shrugged noncommittally. He'd never been able to lie to Steve, something about that idiot’s big honest face made it impossible. “Doesn't really matter if I do.”

 

“Of course it matters. You're allowed to want things for yourself now. You're not the Asset anymore. You're Bucky Barnes, for crying out loud, you could have any woman you want.”

 

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks. “That's not what this is about. If I just wanted to fuck her, I could have. I might not be exactly the same up here anymore–” he jabbed his index finger into his temple, “–but I could have accomplished that. I'm not blind, I see how she looks at me. But I don't want her to be another notch in my bedpost, you mook. And that's why I can't be with her.”

 

Steve just stared at him, dumbstruck. “I'm not sure I follow, Buck.”

 

“If I just wanted a fling, I'd be out the door before the sheets were even dry. But I actually like her, and there's a hundred reasons why I shouldn't be with her for longer than a night. She's too good for me, and I'm no good for her. I'm damaged. I have times where I don't know what I'm doing. I could hurt her and not have a goddamn clue. She deserves someone who doesn't have, what were the odds again? A one point seven percent chance of losing control and snapping her neck at any given moment. The more time I spend with her, the more likely it is she’ll encounter the Asset at some point. She deserves someone without blood on his hands.” 

 

Steve nodded solemnly, staring down at the running path while he planned his next words carefully. “I understand why you feel that way, like you have to isolate yourself. But that’s a hell of a lonely way to live, and after everything… you’ve earned a little happiness. And she’s not going to hang around forever, waiting for you. I know the Maximoff kid’s got his eye on her, and you know how he is with women.”

 

He felt bitter bile rise in his throat at the thought of Pietro and Darcy together. He’d probably feel that way about her with anyone, but Pietro was such a little prick that it was especially horrible to picture her with him.

 

“She should say yes to him. As far as I know, he’s not the world’s most prolific assassin.” Bucky walked away, his shoes picking up droplets of water as he crossed the dewy grass. 

 

“You should let her decide all that for herself. She’s not afraid of much. And she knows none of us here are innocent, she's more forgiving than most of us are on ourselves,” Steve called after him.

 

He heard Steve start running again, and went back inside. 

 

*****

 

Bucky’s plan was… well, his therapist kept telling him that failure was an arbitrary notion, and what we might perceive as failure was really just providing us with the opportunity to learn about our fear of success, and blah blah blah. 

 

His plan was failing. 

 

Just about every night, she somehow knew (how did she  _ always _ know?) when he’d be in the common area and she’d turn up a few minutes later, bringing beer and snacks and the sinking feeling in his gut that he was falling hard for her despite his best efforts. He was going to have to be more proactive; his prior attempts to ignore her were, in turn, ignored by Darcy. Keeping her at arm’s length was proving to be impossible. She was nothing if not persistent. And beautiful. And way, way too good for a killer like him. 

 

He just needed to get her to realize that.

 

“Why is Buffy still wasting her time with Angel? After everything he did, to her and her friends? She should be with someone good, someone who can give her the happiness she deserves. He’s bad for her.”

 

Darcy gave him a stern look, which usually meant he was about to be on the receiving end of a somewhat patronizing lecture. “He deserves forgiveness. What he did, as Angelus, doesn’t factor into the equation. Buffy knows that Angelus and Angel are different. What he was, what he did, when he wasn’t in control of himself, it doesn’t matter to her. She knows that he’s a good man, worth loving.” She patted him on the forearm, hand lingering for a few moments. 

 

Well. That certainly backfired. New tactic: awkward confrontation. He sighed, enjoying the ghost of warmth where her hand had just been, and screwed his eyes shut to ask, “Why are you here, Darcy?” 

 

She was silent. Which, to Bucky, was surprising enough for him to reopen his eyes and look at her. She was just staring at him with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, as though she was waiting for him to say something else. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t going to. He was going to make her answer the question, and he would then carefully explain why he was dangerous to be around and an overall bad idea. He wasn’t going to say anything until she did. 

 

“I didn’t mean it like that, doll.” Still no response from her but a slight twitch of her lips when he called her “doll.” “I just meant… why do you keep coming back here? You can’t tell me you don’t have somewhere else you could be. Someone else to spend time with. Pietro, maybe.” He had to stop himself from wincing at the suggestion. 

 

Finally, a reaction; she laughed right in his face. “My idea of a good time is not being with a guy whose claim to fame is being the fastest around. I appreciate a man who takes his time, someone who's… thorough.” 

 

He groaned inwardly. By this point he was pretty sure she was just toying with him. “But really, Darcy why do you keep coming here? To… To me?” He just needed an answer, anything he could rebuff. He could hurt her feelings a little bit now, to ensure he wouldn't actually hurt her in the future. 

 

He was pretty sure he could do that. 

 

Kind of. 

 

Like, 50-50. 

 

Her eyes searched his face, her expression soft and almost sad. “Because I like spending time with you. You're…” she was having a hard time putting her feelings into words and could only come up with: “...nice.”

 

This claim, he could contest. “I'm not. I'm mean. I'm a mean, old man.” 

 

“Sure.” She made a noise of agreement, lips pressed together as she nodded. “Which explains why you let me use you as a pillow and don't get mad when I accidentally spoil the show for you, or spill beer on you and/or your cell phone.”

 

Maybe scare tactics would help? “Just because I'm not mean to you doesn't make me nice. You know what I've done, don't you? All the people I've murdered? And it's not just something that I did in the past. That monster, the Asset, he's still in here. And he wouldn't hesitate to do those things again. To you, even.” 

 

Her patronizing speech-making face made a reappearance. “Bucky? You remember earlier what I said about why Buffy forgives Angel? How everything that Angelus did wasn't his fault, she didn't blame him for it?”

 

He nodded, not loving where this was going. 

 

Her hand laid over his, gently stroking his knuckles with her thumb, her tone somehow straddling the line between outright condescension and tender sincerity. “That was actually a thinly veiled metaphor for you, you dork.”

 

He gaped at her, not entirely sure how to respond. It took all of his focus and control to come up with: “That's all well and good for Buffy, but I could literally kill you at any time.”

 

She shrugged, her face a bored expression that would have been more fitting if he had told her he was thinking about buying a new shirt. “And I have an extensive family history of breast cancer that could do me in, too. But I don't spend my every waking moment worrying about that, either.” She paused for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts and decide how to proceed. 

 

“Look, Bucky, I like spending time with you. I like  _ you _ . I'm not exactly subtle about that; you're a smart guy and by now I'm sure you've worked out the fact I’d like to climb on top of you and ride you into next Tuesday.” She looked away for a moment, cheeks reddening at being so forward, but deciding to press on. 

 

“If you're bringing all this murder business up out of some misguided attempt to protect me from yourself, you'll just have to get over it. I'm a big girl, I can decide for myself who I do and don't want to be with. You don't get to make that choice for me. But you're also an adult, you get to choose who you want in your life. It's fine if you're not interested in me, or not attracted to me or whatever…” She trailed off, self-consciously looking down into her lap rather than at him, afraid of how he might respond. 

 

This was it. This was his chance to lie, to tell her he wasn't interested, that he didn't want to be with her. Just get her away from him, keep her safe, and maybe stomp his own heart into pieces in the process. 

 

She still wasn't looking at him, and before he knew what he was doing, he cupped her chin in his left hand and gently drew her face upward.  She didn't seem to even notice that it was his metal hand touching her. Tears threatened to spill from her bright eyes. Fuck. 

 

“Not attracted to you?” He gave her a soft smile and she felt her insides melt. “Doll, when I see my first lady angel, if God ever sees fit to show me one, it'll be the wings and not her face that’ll make my mouth fall open. I've already seen the most beautiful face that could ever be.” 

 

That was…. Definitely not what he had intended to say. And his thumb ghosting over her lower lip seemed to be completely out of his own control. 

 

A barely perceptible shudder ran through her body. She was quite sure she had stopped breathing altogether. 

 

So had he. 

 

“Bucky?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If you don't kiss me right now I'm gonna have to go back to my room for some quality alone time with my pulsing shower head, ‘cause that's about the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to–” 

 

He cut her off, his hand shifting from her chin to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her dark hair to pull her in towards him. His lips crashed into hers, the bruising force behind the kiss startling him a little. Since the first night she had sat with him, he had been aching to trace his tongue over her full lower lip; when he finally did, she moaned a little in response. 

 

He grinned into the kiss, and took advantage of her open mouth, sliding his tongue in to meet hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand fisting in the back of his t-shirt, the other raking into his hair, urging him on. His flesh arm curved around her waist, pulling her body in closer to his. Canting her hips up, she did him one better, maneuvering so she straddled him with her thighs, licking into his mouth as she did so, savoring the taste of him. 

 

His hands skimmed up the sides of her body, rucking up her shirt along the way. The cold from his hand sent a shiver through her, though his touch left burning fire in its wake. Lifting her arms, she helped him pull the shirt over her head, and he tossed it over the back of the couch. A simple black bra, edged in a little lace, barely contained her ample breasts, and he tore himself away from her lips to kiss a blazing trail down her throat. The stubble on his face scratched the tender skin of her neck but she closed her eyes, tilted her head back and leaned into him, into the sensation. His kisses finally reached the tops of her breasts, and he began to push the straps down–

 

“Hey, have you guys seen OH MY GOD,” Sam’s shocked voice interrupted them as he stopped dead on the edge of the couch, covering his eyes with both hands and scrunching his face as though he was looking directly into the sun. “You know this is a public area, right?”

 

Darcy didn’t bother covering herself, or even extricating her hands from Bucky’s hair. From his position nestled in between her magnificent breasts, he could feel the vibration in her chest as she shouted, “Wilson! Get your ass the FUCK OUT OF HERE right fucking NOW!” and away he scampered. When his footsteps faded she proceeded to guide Bucky’s hands to the clasp on her bra. 

 

Torn between a ludicrously strong desire to get her more naked and some vague concern about being interrupted again, he stopped. “Should we, uh, go somewhere else?” He didn’t want to offer that she come back to his room and make it seem like he expected that she would have sex with him that quickly. Despite what she had said about wanting to ride him into next Tuesday–which, God willing, she was serious about–he didn’t want to push anything. 

 

A throaty laugh bubbled out of her, and she kissed him sweetly for a moment. “Don’t be stupid.” She kissed him again, nipping at his lower lip this time, eliciting a completely involuntary groan from him. “FRIDAY, engage privacy protocol for the common room, please?” 

 

“Right away, Miss Lewis.”

 

Some foggy, lust-addled back part of his brain was a little confused. “Privacy protocols?”

 

Darcy had begun working her way across his jaw towards his earlobe. “Mmmmhmmm,” she murmured, running her tongue along the outer shell of his ear. 

 

“Since when are there privacy protocols?”

 

The hot breath of her laughter in his ear sent a shudder down his spine, as she said, “Since Veteran’s Day.”

 

“What?” It was very difficult to have this conversation when she was raking her teeth across his earlobe, sucking on it gently, sending the sensation straight to his already hard dick.

 

“On Veteran’s Day. Everyone was at the barbecue Tony was throwing, I came to the kitchen for more plates and walked in on what appeared to be Tasha thanking Steve for his service to our country. Very enthusiastically, I might add. And while I appreciate the opportunity to witness the world’s hottest assassin giving a blowjob to the world’s second-hottest living World War Two vet, I thought it might be prudent to create an option for private hookups in a public space. No one's coming in here now. So let's get back to business, shall we?” She said this all very fast, even by her standards.

 

“Second hottest?” he smirked up at her.

 

“Yeah, nerd. She’s hotter than you, you're hotter than him. Now are we done talking about this?” He didn't have a chance to reply, as she began kissing him again with renewed fervor, her tongue sliding in to meet his. Delicate hands slipped his shirt off, fingers teasing slowly down the hard muscles of his stomach as she languidly ground herself onto his erection. A guttural choking sound escaped from him as she did so. 

 

Her hands continued their journey across his stomach, roving up to rest on the hard plane of his chest. Breaking the kiss, she sat back to look down into his eyes as she hesitated for a moment before she tenderly traced her fingers down the angry pink line of scar tissue that fused his arm to the rest of him. Worry shone from his grey eyes. It was one thing to know he had this arm, it was another thing entirely to see for herself where the man and machine became one. 

 

Darcy, always so observant, cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead before trailing a line of gentle kisses down the scar. Relaxing finally, he breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. Bucky slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders, kissing the freckled skin there in a mirror of what she had just done to him. His right hand unhooked the clasp in the back and she laughed. 

 

“I'm impressed, Sarge. One handed de-clasping is not easy.” She jumped a little as he thumbed her pert pink nipple with his cool metal hand. “It's almost like you know what you're doing,” she teased. 

 

She was clearly gearing up to say something else, but he took the opportunity to circle her other nipple with his tongue, the contrast of hot and cold making her breath hitch. “Doll,” he started, gently scraping his teeth over the rosy bud, drawing a small whimper from her. “You aren't wrong about that.”

 

Lust pooled low in her belly, and she tried to grind down onto him in a way that would give her the friction she craved, but to no avail. She whined a little, hands sneaking down to rub him through the front of his jeans, trying to speed everything along. 

 

He batted her hands away, and gave a firm suck on her nipple while rolling the other between his metal fingers, and she whimpered again. “What's your hurry, beautiful?” He switched sides, laving the freshly pinched and sensitive bud with his tongue. “What happened to liking a man who takes his time?”

 

“You bastard,” she gasped out, barely able to form the words, though her tone lacked any actual vitriol. 

 

He lifted her off his lap, laying her down on the couch, so her legs were now on either side of his ribs. Dark hair fanned out behind her, eyes hooded with lust, the face of an angel and a body made for sin. He wondered for a brief second how he had gotten so absurdly lucky to be sharing this with her, but the thought flew out of his mind as soon she hooked her fingers into his waistband and pulled him down on top of her. 

 

A wet, filthy kiss linked them once more. Wrapping her thighs tightly around his waist, her heels pressing into his backside, she urged him to grind his erection into her core, giving some of the delicious pressure she needed. She moaned, low and throaty, at the contact, and angled her hips up to give herself a better angle to rut against him. 

 

“Slow down, sweetheart.” He ran his tongue over her lower lip again, and he was pretty sure he'd never be able to get enough of that. “I'm gonna make you feel real good, I promise.” His voice was husky as he unhooked her ankles from behind him, and she pouted at him. “But I'm gonna be thorough about it.” He winked, and she let out a small giggle, while not very convincingly trying to maintain her pout. 

 

He lay a trail of open mouthed kisses down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, and down her soft stomach, making his way tortuously down her body. He flicked open the button on her jeans and she lifted her hips so he could slowly peel the pants down, revealing a pair of simple blue cotton panties underneath. Once the jeans were discarded, he began kissing a path up one leg from the ankle, giving her inner thigh a nip with his teeth when she tried to urge him on by tugging his hair. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he made sure to spread her legs wide, showing him how wet she already was, the moisture darkening her panties. He nosed at her heated center, the sweet, earthy scent of her making him delirious. It was like an electric current running through him, and every nerve ending was zinging with anticipation. 

 

She was whimpering again, and he could plainly see she was getting impatient. He pressed the heel of his palm against her, and she ground into it, her breath growing quicker. Her fingers raked through his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp as he slid her panties down her legs. A hot, sucking kiss on her inner thigh made her huff in irritation, and he grinned up at her, her blue eyes stormy. 

 

“Yes, doll? Something you wanna say?” 

 

Whatever she had wanted to say, the words died on her lips as he licked a hot, firm stripe up her center, holding her gaze the whole time. Her hips bucked up wildly in surprise, and he used his metal hand to firmly keep her in place on the couch. Flesh fingers circled around the outside of her entrance, glistening and dripping with arousal. Sinking one finger into her wetness, he pressed his tongue flat against her clit, and circled around it slowly. Arching her back, she hooked her thighs over his shoulders and moaned loud enough that, had the privacy protocols not been in place, he’d worry about someone hearing her. 

 

He slid his finger slowly in and out, repeating the circles he drew around her clit with his tongue, all at a much more leisurely pace than she wanted to allow. Cool metal held her hips steady, though he could feel her trying to speed up the pace of his hand. “Fuck,” she gasped, over and over. 

 

He laughed a little, the vibrations from his mouth on her sending an extra little tremor through her. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

 

“I do all sorts of things with this mouth,” she panted, words coming unevenly. “None of which you’ll ever experience if you don’t–” Her words were choked out as he slipped a second finger inside her, and soon he felt the muscles of her pussy beginning to flutter around him.

 

“Don’t what, doll?” With firm, lapping strokes against her clit, he crooked his fingers inside her and she came with a cry, clenching around him.

 

Breathing ragged as though she had just run a marathon, she sat up, pulling him in for a deep kiss. The taste of her lingered on his tongue as she started unbuttoning his jeans, standing briefly so she could slide his pants off. He let out a hiss as his aching cock was freed from his pants; she chuckled to herself a little at realizing he hadn’t been wearing any underwear. 

 

“The Howling Commando goes commando? Go figure,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. Before he knew what was happening, she was kneeling on the floor in front of the couch in between his legs with a look on her face like Christmas had come early. 

 

“Darcy, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” Bucky protested. “In my day, it was something that girls sometimes felt like they had to, but I don’t want you to feel obliga–oh Christ!”

 

A beatific smile lit her face, eyes bright and excited, before taking his swollen cock in her hand, licking slowly up the shaft and sucking the head between her plump lips. Her tongue danced around the tip, lapping up the precum he had been leaking since before Wilson had walked in. Just watching her, lush lips wrapping around him, was almost enough to set him off right there. 

 

She held his cock in one hand, sliding it up and down in tandem with her glistening lips. Every now and then she’d start to swirl her tongue around him, then go back to just a gentle up and down, then another swirl and a firm suck that had him seeing stars, choking out what he hoped was an adequate warning that he was about to come. She took him all the way down, and he fisted his hand in her hair, trying not to push on the back of her head. Gripping the couch so hard with the metal one that somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the sound of fabric tearing, she hummed as his cock pulsed, swallowing his release. 

 

“Holy shit,” he panted, as she climbed back up on his lap and kissed him again, a bit sloppy but passionate all the same. “You really didn't have to--” 

 

A finger across his lips cut him off. “I wanted to, Bucky. I don't do anything I don't want to, and I gotta say, giving head gets me so…” She trailed off as she grabbed his hand and placed it up against her flushed pussy. “ _ Wet.”  _ She breathed the last word into his ear before sucking on his earlobe. 

 

“Darcy Lewis, you are gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, shocked by how drenched her core was. Sinking two fingers back into her, she recaptured his lips, enjoying the lazy way his tongue swept into her mouth to meet hers. Thumbing her clit, he kissed her through another climax around his fingers. She moaned into his mouth as she came, and he felt his cock starting to harden again. 

 

She felt it too, pressing against the curve of her ass. Pumping him a few times with her hand, he could feel her smiling into their kiss. “Thank God for super serum,” she murmured, lifting her hips, rubbing her slickness up and down his shaft a few times before lining the head up with her entrance. Gripping her hips, he thrust up into her cunt, her lips falling open in a silent O as he filled her to the hilt.

 

The tightness and warmth enveloping him was divine. She slowly began to ride him, her movements fluid, rolling her hips in a way that made him feel like it was going to be over all too soon. As she rode him, he began to speed up his own thrusting, and, slipping one arm under her ass, he lifted her and flipped her onto her back. She made a little squeak of surprise, but the lust and hunger in her eyes drove him to continue, driving into her at a punishing pace. Her knees hooked over his shoulders, his thrusts grew harder and her moaning grew louder. Suddenly, the muscles of her pussy spasmed around him, and her back arched off the couch as she cried out. The clenching of her was the last push he needed, and he thrust deeply once more, emptying himself into her. 

 

As she laid back on the couch, panting, he slid up her sweat-slicked body and came to rest with his cheek on her chest. Her hand stroked absently through his hair for a moment, and he could hear her heart pounding as her chest rose and fell. “For fuck’s sake, Bucky, we could’ve been doing this ages ago,” she laughed. 

 

He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “Well, if it helps, I’m planning on doing it a lot more.”

 

Lips pursed in mock concentration, she pondered for a moment before sighing. “If it’s the least you can do.”

 

“Excuse me, Sergeant Barnes, Miss Lewis. My security protocols are being overridden,” FRIDAY interrupted politely. 

 

“I hope for Lewis’s sake you two are finished,” Tony’s voice projected down from the ceiling. “And, because I like you so much, I’m not even mad that I might have to replace that couch.”

 

“You will definitely need to, by the way,” Darcy called up at him. “What do you want, Tony? We were both about to enjoy a well-earned nap, followed by more furniture ruining.”

 

“As loath as I am to keep you from testing the dexterity of his cybernetic fingers, we have an Assemble. Wheels up in five.” The speaker clicked off. 

 

Bucky groaned, sitting up. “Duty calls, gorgeous.” He began hunting around for his discarded clothing. 

 

She pouted at him when he pulled his jeans back on. “Can’t you, like, call in sick or something?” Darcy stood, pressing her breasts against his bare chest. She twined her arms around his neck and lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him slowly, deeply. “I have some more stuff I wanna do to you.”

 

Big blue puppy dog eyes stared up at him, and saying no to the beautiful woman in his arms was one of the harder things he had done in recent memory. “I have plenty that I’d like to do to you, too. And I will, the minute I get home.”

 

“I wish you weren’t such a damn good person, with your world-saving and all.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

She wrapped him in a tight hug, her voice wavering a little when she said, “Be safe, okay?” Concern was written all over her face, but the moment was undercut slightly by her squeezing his ass with both hands.

 

“See ya soon, doll,” he kissed the top of her head and ran off to the Quinjet.

 

****

 

Three nights later, when the jet touched back down at the facility, Bucky shuffled into the common area, covered in dirt, blood (not his) and some sort of translucent green goo. He had intended to find something to eat and then go to sleep for at least a week. No sooner had he collapsed on the (new and unsullied) couch with a sandwich than Darcy turned up, flopping down next to him. 

 

“That’s not your blood, is it?” she asked, worried.

 

He shook his head. “How do you always know when I’m here?”

 

She actually blushed a little. “FRIDAY and I have an understanding.”

 

That explained a lot, actually. He leaned in for a kiss, but she recoiled. “What is it, Darce?”

 

“Well, it’s just…”

 

Terror struck him. His heart stopped and his mouth went dry. Had she changed her mind? What had happened while he was gone?

 

“I don’t really know how to say this… Well, Buck, you, uh… you smell fucking terrible.” She kissed him anyway. “But luckily I have a shower in my room that’s big enough for two.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely queenspuppet for her advice and feedback and assuring me that this wasn't a pile of steaming hot garbage. 
> 
> Bucky's line about if he ever sees a lady angel is straight ripped off from Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. But doesn't it seem like something that smooth motherfucker would say?
> 
> I would also love to get people's opinions on the Steve vs. Buffy debate. Unarmed, who wins? He's probably stronger, she's probably faster, and they can both take a pretty solid pummeling. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make my tiny heart fill with joy. I welcome feedback!


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